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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25089796">plasticine porters with looking-glass ties</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid'>M0stlyVoid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(See notes) - Freeform, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Auror Harry Potter, Hallucinogens, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monitored Shagging, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Potions Accident, Rimming, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, more feelings than are really necessary</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:00:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25089796</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lately, Harry thinks things don’t seem the same between him and Draco. His head is in the clouds when he thinks about what their relationship is now, and where it might be headed—he’s happy with their friendship, but he wants something else. A potions accident over a lunchtime visit to Draco’s lab (what <i>does</i> he get up to in there, anyway?) changes things, though, and accelerates their relationship faster than either of them had ever expected. How are they going to get through this new development together?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>316</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>plasticine porters with looking-glass ties</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i tagged this as 'mildly dubious consent' because they're under the influence of a potion that has similar effects to both LSD and ecstasy, but i did my best to make it clear that there are no compulsory effects to this potion, and they talk about it while they're both still fully sober.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“—and so then, Ron ended up <i>in the pond</i>, nobody knows how, but he was soaking wet and stuck in mud up to his ankles and shouting like the devil was after him, and Hermione was laughing so hard she almost fell down, and so he just had to stay there until we all calmed down enough to figure out how to get him out of the ravine—Merlin, I haven’t seen him that angry in <i>ages,</i> it was incredible,” Harry finishes, taking a bite of his apple for emphasis, and maybe also a little bit to hide his triumphant smile as Draco cackles and nudges at his knee.</p><p>Harry’s sitting near the corner of Draco’s L-shaped work table, a somewhat-respectable distance from the ingredients he’s got chopped up and ready to be added to the cauldron simmering away over a burner on the floor. Draco had taken one look at Harry's hastily-wrapped sandwich when he walked in and cast a bubble over the components, so Harry isn’t actually too concerned about his proximity to any potentially volatile ingredients.</p><p>Draco had lit up when Harry knocked and walked in without waiting for a response, but did his best to hide it with a scowl and an irritated <i>’They’re paying you too much if you can galavant about the Ministry whenever you please,’</i> which Harry had seen right through. Even if Draco really <i>had</i> been bothered, it would have taken a direct order from him to send Harry from the lab—it’s been four days since they’ve been able to spend any one-on-one time together, and he’s been feeling itchy to see him all day.</p><p>He’s not sure what it actually is that Draco does here. Harry knows he works for some sort of experimental potions subdivision of the Department of Mysteries, but over the last few months he’s had a multitude of projects, none of which seem to have any connection to each other. This lab, which is enormous and seems to be for Draco’s exclusive use (except when he’s got frantic, frightened underlings scurrying about following his snapped orders—Harry’s spent more than one lunch hour leaning against the wall watching in amusement as Draco terrorised a whole squad of potioneers, although he hadn’t been quite sure just <i>why</i> they all seemed so scared of him), is the most public, visible portion of Mysteries—the only part of the entire Department that can be accessed via standard Auror clearance, without the need for hours of paperwork and invasive psychological spellwork, for which Harry counts his blessings, because otherwise he doesn’t think these intermittent lunch breaks would be possible.</p><p>That’s how it had started, really—an endless, interminable illegal imports/exports case that had dragged for months until Gawain finally broke down under Harry’s desperate pleading and requested a Potions expert from Mysteries to consult on the seemingly unrelated ingredients in a last-ditch effort to glean new insight.</p><p>Harry had been—well, <i>appalled</i> might not be overstating it, when Draco <i>fucking</i> Malfoy had swanned into Conference Room Three a day later, twenty minutes late for the briefing and utterly unapologetic. </p><p>Draco <i>fucking</i> Malfoy, who kept his blue-black Unspeakable robes buttoned all the way up his throat and laced tight all the way down his wrists, leaving Harry’s fingers itchy to pull the regimented perfection apart. Draco <i>fucking</i> Malfoy, whom Harry hadn’t even known had been recruited by Mysteries, who sneered down at the Aurors like they were a lesser class, who kept to his own schedule and responded to summons only when he felt like it, yet demanded instant replies to his unending stream of snappish memos.</p><p>Draco <i>fucking</i> Malfoy, who after a week of taking over three-quarters of Harry’s desk with his papers and teacups and <i>special bloody quills,</i> after <i>one week</i> of analysis he refused to share until he delivered his final report, managed to provide one stunning bit of insight that broke the entire case wide open.</p><p>Harry had reluctantly gone in search of Malfoy to invite him to lunch as thanks. After a quarter-hour of wandering, he finally made his way to the lab, where he’d found Draco toe-to-toe with a tall...person in Unspeakable robes (when Harry thinks back on the incident, he can’t remember any details about the person’s face, or any identifying features other than ‘tall’, which makes Draco laugh—<i>'they all want to be seen as tall and looming; bloody pathetic, half of them hardly hit my shoulder, you know’</i>), whose arms were crossed over their torso as Draco shouted them down. Harry had lurked uncomfortably at the door, staring around the lab with curiosity while the argument raged on (he can’t remember any details about <i>that</i> either, even though he knows no Silencing spells were used; he can remember the exact tone and timbre of Draco’s shouting), and finally Draco had sneered the other person out the room before turning to Harry and raising one eyebrow.</p><p>Harry had invited him to lunch, which ran for two hours as he stared in fascination as Draco <i>fucking</i> Malfoy shed his snotty Unspeakable persona like a set of robes and enchanted Harry throughout the entire meal.</p><p>He’d stumbled back to his office in a daze, waving Ron’s questions off, and spent the rest of the afternoon wondering if he’d been hexed, or cursed, or even been slipped something. Determined to figure it out, he’d taken his lunch down to Draco’s labs the next day, and the next, and suddenly it was weeks on, and they were meeting for dinner, and drinks, and walks when the weather was fine, and taking in a show at the weekend, and, and, and…</p><p>Harry was finally forced to admit that Draco truly was <i>just that charming,</i> even if he was an exacting, demanding terror at work, and so he proceeded to throw himself whole-heartedly into this...whatever it is.</p><p>They aren’t talking about it yet, not in any real way, but Harry is hopeful that soon, maybe, he’ll pin Draco down into admitting these were proper dates, and then maybe <i>that</i> might lead to pinning him down in a more literal sense...or vice versa, Harry’s not picky.</p><p>For now, though, he slips away to Draco’s lab for lunch when he can. Harry generally takes his lunch later in the afternoon, well after Draco’s already eaten, but he’s allowed in the lab whenever he wants to be there (and Harry means that literally—he’s watched more than one potioneer, and once even another robed, anonymous Unspeakable, get expelled from the room by an unseen force that Draco has some sort of control over, but Harry hasn’t had it happen to him yet. He’d suspect accidental magic, if Draco was the sort of person to <i>ever</i> do something accidentally), so when the workload isn’t too overwhelming in the Auror offices he sneaks off with his sandwich of the day to keep Draco company.</p><p>Today, the lab is empty but for the two of them. Draco’s working on a respiratory aid potion and it’s delicate work, so he hadn’t wanted any assistants in. When Harry offered to let him be and come pick him up at the end of the day instead, Draco had turned pink and muttered that it was fine, Harry could stay since he’d walked all this way over already.</p><p>Harry peers curiously at the cauldron as Draco sprinkles in a reddish-purple powder after he stops laughing enough to focus. The potion, previously a flat, milky white, slowly turns the same brick-violet as the powder, and Harry wrinkles his nose and leans away again as it begins to smell strongly of garlic. “Urgh. What’s <i>in</i> this thing, Draco? Surely it won’t help people breathe better if it smells like <i>that.</i>”</p><p>Draco chuckles and waves a disinfectant spell in Harry’s direction, filling his nose with a strong mint scent. “That’s violet phosphorus; quite pungent, isn’t it? It’s one of the first active ingredients; so far everything else in here, particularly the sodium bicarbonate, are either stabilisers or inert until they interact with a catalyst. This was the first one, and the other one is heating up over there.” He gestures toward a wide, shallow bowl over a burner at a different table that looks barely lit. “You might have noticed I’m using the gold cauldron today; the potential volatility of this mixture means I need to take every possible precaution, and gold is one of the least reactive metals. I’ve also reinforced it on the outside with heat-proofing to prevent any melting, although I can’t put anything on the inside because the magic might interact with some of the components…”</p><p>He patters on a bit as he stirs, and Harry listens quietly, tearing the crusts off his sandwich as he eats.  He doesn’t fully understand what Draco’s talking about—well, okay, he doesn’t understand <i>most</i> of what he’s saying—but Draco’s animated, and his eyes sparkle when he talks about work, and Harry likes to watch him like this.</p><p>Draco interrupts himself with a triumphant <i>hah!</i> when the potion turns a rich mulberry colour, and a jab of his wand adjusts the burners to a low flame. “Nearly there…” he murmurs, standing and crossing to the other table. After a brief examination of the mixture, he shuts the burner off and levitates the bowl over to his work station, moving slowly. Harry holds his breath as Draco bites his lip and works at keeping the bowl steady.</p><p>Finally, Draco gets the bowl over the cauldron, and they both breathe out a sigh of relief. Harry leans closer to get a better look, and— “Wow! What’s <i>that</i>?” he exclaims, mesmerised by the shining silver liquid.</p><p>Draco shoves him back a little, carefully. “It’s palladium, and it’s at <i>exactly</i> the melting stage I need it to be, so back off, Potter, or I’ll spell you out of the lab entirely.”</p><p>Harry sets the sandwich wrapper, empty now but for some crumbs and a corner of crust, on his lap and puts his hands up, laughing. “Oh please, <i>Unspeakable Malfoy,</i> anything but that.”</p><p>Draco keeps his mouth in a firm line, though one corner of it twitches up a bit. “You’d do well to keep that level of respect at all times, Potter,” he says blandly, slowly moving his wand in a semi-circle to get the bowl to tip and move in circles, drizzling the metal into the potion in a spiral pattern as Draco stirs. “I have powers of which you know not.”</p><p>Harry leans back in, ignoring Draco’s raised eyebrow. “Oh really, Draco? I think I might like to hear a bit more about these <i>powers</i> you’ve allegedly got—I’m an Auror, you know, and it’s my job to <i>thoroughly</i> investigate things like this…” His heart is beating faster, because—well, this is flirting, isn’t it? Not the little sidestep dancing they’ve been doing for months now; this, here, is proper flirting with intent.</p><p>Draco turns his head briefly away from the cauldron to wink at Harry over his shoulder, face pink from more than just the heat, Harry hopes. “Well, far be it from me to impede your investigation, <i>Auror</i> Potter...perhaps we can set up a mutually agreeable—hey, be careful please!”</p><p>Harry draws his hand back from where it had been inching along the worktable, coming dangerously close to a pile of white powder. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, cursing himself for breaking the moment. Keeping his hands safely down, he leans even further over, hooking his chin over Draco’s shoulder and staring down at the cauldron. “Wow, that’s...quite pretty, actually,” he says softly, staring at the silvery tendrils snaking around in the violet-red liquid.</p><p>“Isn’t it?” Draco’s voice is breathy, but he doesn’t turn his head, doesn’t bring their faces closer together; his focus is entirely on the pouring and stirring.</p><p>“The—palladium, did you say? It looks shinier than silver usually does, or platinum even. It’s almost glowing—is it used in jewellery at all?” He crosses his legs.</p><p>“Sometimes,” Draco says absently, watching the bowl as it empties. “It discolours more easily, though, and has to be heated in a very specific manner to prevent it, so many jewellers don’t bother.”</p><p>“That’s too bad,” Harry says, moving closer, eyes fixed on the silver pour from bowl to cauldron. “It’s stunning. Looks like—” <i>your eyes,</i> he almost says, but stops himself. “...Pensieve memories, almost. Brighter than normal silver is.” He can feel Draco’s breathing pick up at their proximity.</p><p>“Harry…” he says softly, and Harry holds his breath. “...Potter, can you...I need you to back up a bit, please? This is delicate, and…”</p><p>“Oh, sure. Sorry,” Harry says, hiding his disappointment as he scoots away. He’s moving too fast, though, and distracted by both the flush at Draco’s neck and the bright shine of the last drizzles of metal into the cauldron, and he jostles the sandwich wrapper on his lap, and as he scrambles to grab it his hand knocks his thigh and sends the piece of crust flying directly into the potion, where it lands with a <i>plop</i> and disappears almost instantly.</p><p>Harry and Draco both freeze as the cauldron immediately starts emitting a purple-silver vapour that’s almost transparent, and—sparkles? Whatever it is, it’s moving fast, and in seconds it’s filled over half the room.</p><p>Draco yelps and shoves Harry off the table and back behind him before throwing a heavy-duty Stasis charm at the cauldron to stop the reaction, turning off the burner with a second jab of his wand. Squinting through the glimmering air, he sweeps a <i>Vertex</i> out across the room, and a whirlwind of air spins the smoke to a semicircle over the cauldron, where it swirls about restively as if under a convex glass lid.</p><p>Harry’s frozen stiff, one hand still on the worktable where he held himself steady when Draco pushed him off. He stares at the contained, swiftly-moving smoke, the smell of hyacinth heavy in his nose.</p><p>“FUCK!” Draco shouts, sinking to the ground and hiding his face in his hands. “Fucking <i>hell,</i> Harry, what did I <i>say</i> about you being in here—<i>the things I work on are dangerous</i>! Time and <i>time again</i> I have warned you about what might happen if you play around in here! Merlin, I <i>never</i> should have bloody let you in today, I should have sent you back to the bloody <i>bullpen</i> the second you showed up with that bloody sandwich, <i>fuck</i>!” </p><p>Harry doesn’t know what to do, so he crouches down and awkwardly places his hand on Draco’s back, between his shoulder blades, rubbing hesitantly as Draco hurls more invective at himself.</p><p>Draco calms after a few moments, leaning back briefly into Harry’s hand before he stands and dusts his robes off. “Right,” he mutters, staring at the cauldron for a moment before striding over to a desk shoved up against the wall near the door. He plucks up one of his special quills and rifles through the drawers until he pulls out a memo sheet Harry’s never seen before—it’s dark purple, almost black, and something about it makes him uneasy. When he puts quill to paper, without even dipping it in ink first, the words scratch out in a violent neon green.</p><p>He scribbles for a few minutes, then folds the memo up and sends it off to a dark corner of the lab, where Harry watches in amazement as it disappears. “Wait...where did that...what <i>was</i> that?”</p><p>“Emergency protocols request. I hope you didn’t have anything else you needed to get done today, Potter—we’re going into lockdown.”</p><p>Harry sucks in a breath. “Shit. Oh, shit, Draco, I’m—I’m <i>so sorry,</i> truly I didn’t mean to—”</p><p>Draco raises his hand and cuts him off with a sigh. “It’s fine, Harry. It was an accident, and really, it was as much my fault as yours—I never should have let you in here today. I knew how delicate this brew was. We’ve got enough to worry about without adding unneeded guilt to the mix.”</p><p>“What else do we—”</p><p>But Harry’s interrupted by the lab door crashing open and a line of wix in pure black robes streaming in. Harry moves closer to Draco, deeply unsettled to note that they all have their hoods up, and the hoods look totally empty, void.</p><p>Draco glances over at him. “Just the Mysteries emergency crew, Harry—their hoods are charmed to look that way. Don’t worry.”</p><p>“Right,” Harry mutters, eyeing the row of newcomers and inching further behind Draco, who snorts and elbows him lightly before stepping forward.</p><p>“Potions contamination accident,” he says, directing his words to the closest Unspeakable, who says nothing, makes no movement, although Harry notes the glow of a recording spell on the ceiling. He has no idea who cast it, or when. “Procedure and provided instructions had been followed, results as expected. Unspeakable Malfoy had a guest in the lab, and through an unavoidable sequence of events, a piece of Auror Potter’s sandwich fell into the potion. Sandwich consisted of—” Draco pauses and looks back at Harry, jerking his head towards the silent line of Unspeakables when Harry gapes at him for a few moments.</p><p>“Er—” Harry clears his throat. “Uh. It was a ham and cheese sandwich, on rye bread. With mustard?”</p><p>“Rye?” Draco whispers, and Harry whips his head in his direction at the tone. Draco’s eyes are closed and he looks—he’s in <i>despair,</i> and Harry shivers, squeaks out a <i>yes</i> in confirmation.</p><p>Draco breathes, then opens his eyes and continues his statement. “Cauldron began emitting light vapour, colour characteristics consistent with the components, added element of sparkle and scent of hyacinth that both deviate from expected outcomes. Stasis added and heat source removed within twenty seconds, <i>Vertex</i> performed to gather and contain the smoke immediately after.”</p><p>As soon as Draco stops talking, the recording spell snaps off, and the Unspeakables spread throughout the room. One of them tests Draco’s Stasis and the holding spell, while the other two appear to be testing the air. Harry stands awkwardly, shifting on his feet and wondering what else he’s supposed to do, or say. Draco notices his shuffling and steps closer, brushing their arms together. “We’ll talk when we’re alone,” he says softly, leaning in for just a moment, and Harry nods.</p><p>The Unspeakable at the cauldron steps back, and suddenly the entire setup, burner and all, starts to sink into the floor. Harry’s jaw drops as it disappears from view and the floor seals back up behind it. He thought the Department of Magical Games and Sports was on the floor beneath this one…</p><p>Draco elbows him, and Harry snaps out of it in time to follow him out the laboratory without looking like an idiot. </p><p>The Unspeakables take them to the lifts and hit the button for the lowest levels, and Harry notices with some alarm that not a single person had paid attention to them as they made their way to the bank of lifts, and their car is completely empty. He <i>hates</i> Unspeakable magic sometimes. Draco shoots him a wry glance and lifts a single shoulder, as if he can tell what Harry is thinking.</p><p>They get down to the lowest level and weave through the hallways, reaching a staircase that Harry swears hasn’t been here before. He estimates they go down about a flight and a half, lower down than Harry’s ever been, deeper than he thought the Ministry went at all, and suddenly they pause at a door directly off the staircase. Draco and Harry are ushered briskly in, and Harry hears the door lock and feels the sizzle of wards being raised behind them the second the door shuts again.</p><p>He closes his eyes and feels for them, pulling back almost immediately as the magic snaps and growls at his, only subsiding as he backs away from the doorway. They learn a lot about breaking wards in Auror training, and Harry’s learned even more from Bill Weasley, but he can’t even identify what’s being used here, let alone have a hope at taking them down.</p><p>He turns to observe his surroundings. They’ve been brought into a suite, with windows charmed to show a tranquil park scene even though they’re who knows how many hundreds of feet down. There’s a living area that’s big enough for two desks, a couch, and a dining table without feeling cramped, a full kitchen, and a door that must lead to a bedroom and bathroom. </p><p>The view should be calming, and the décor is neutral, but Harry’s unsettled, and his neck prickles like he’s being watched. Draco’s moving about the living room easily, undoing his Unspeakable garb and dropping it on one of the desks, but Harry stands stiff, wand clenched in his right hand, unwilling to move until he feels like he can lower his shoulders safely.</p><p>Draco notices and smiles wryly. “That’ll be the observation spells, Potter. We’re in the potions accident quarantine suite. Everything that happened here is monitored and recorded to watch for side effects that could prove useful in further research and application.”</p><p>Harry furrows his brow. “Wait…<i>everything</i>? All the rooms? Sound, too?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, yes,” Draco says heavily, walking into the kitchen.</p><p>Harry’s appalled at first, thinking of the invasion of privacy, the embarrassment, but...it makes sense, really; how else would something dangerous, potentially contagious, be monitored? He shrugs a little to himself and does his best to relax, removing his own robes and sending them across to the other desk before he drops his wand on the dining table.</p><p>Draco’s rummaging through the fridge and comes out with two bottles of butterbeer, holding one up and raising an eyebrow at Harry.</p><p>“Something stronger, perhaps?” Harry quips, and his stomach swoops a bit when Draco just shakes his head grimly and gestures them both to the dining table. He opens both bottles, and lets Harry settle, stretch his legs, and take a few sips before he starts talking.</p><p>“So. I didn’t get too in-depth with what I was working on—I told you it was a respiratory aid potion, right?” Harry nods. “And I know I said something about how touchy it is. It…” He’s picking at the bottle label, shredding the paper off, and Harry reaches over and touches the back of his hand.</p><p>“Just tell me, Draco,” he says softly, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re— I mean, you’re really upset, clearly, and it’s freaking me out. I need to know what’s going on.”</p><p>Draco takes in a deep breath and nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry. So, the plain truth of it is— Harry, have you heard of the Muggle drugs LSD and Ecstasy?” He doesn’t wait for a response, but Harry’s stomach cramps all of a sudden, in fear. He’s heard of them, all right. “So, the ingredients I’m using for this, almost all of them are involved in synthesising one of those two drugs. The phosphorus, sodium bicarbonate, palladium, and there’s sodium chloride in there too—<i>salt,</i> Potter, honestly—and they’re all volatile, combined and cooked in the wrong amounts. I spent longer than I care to remember verifying my measurements and checking and double-checking the appropriate heat levels for all of this. That caution, plus the presence of cellulose, which acts as a stabiliser, kept the potion inert and allowed the magic components to combine together and—hopefully at least—produce a potion that can be administered to patients with lung ailments, and assist with if not completely eliminate their breathing problems. However...then your little crust of rye bread went in.</p><p>“Almost any other type of bread, and we’d be in here, but more for observation than anything—a precaution, procedure. But <i>rye</i>...Potter, have you heard of ergotism?” At Harry’s head shake, Draco downs the rest of his butterbeer and continues. “Ergot is a type of fungus that grows on rye grain. It’s not normally a problem anymore, with modern farming techniques and crop monitoring, but potions...they’re different, obviously, as magic is involved. This potion also includes Boom Berry, which—”</p><p>Harry interrupts. “I remember that one! It’s in Wiggenweld, isn’t it? From first year Potions? It...I don’t remember what it does, but I remember because Ron kept laughing at the names...”</p><p>Draco smiles wanly. “Yes. Boom Berry has restorative properties, so…essentially, if the grains used to make the bread in your lunch had ergot growing on or near them, at any point in their life cycle before they were harvested, the Boom Berry will do exactly as it’s meant to—it will restore it. Ergot, in combination with the phosphorus, are some of the ingredients involved in LSD synthesis—and ergotism can cause hallucinations. The rest...the palladium, the salt, the sodium bicarbonate...those are all involved in the production of MDMA.”</p><p>Harry’s been listening in dawning horror to Draco’s quiet, resigned explanation. His hands tremble as he clutches the butterbeer bottle. “So...so. So that’s why we…”</p><p>“That’s why we can’t have anything stronger than butterbeer, yes. I have no way of knowing how alcohol will interact with what we inhaled in that smoke. It was only a few seconds, but...this is a potent mixture. That small amount of exposure may have been enough for us to experience the side effects, if there are any.”</p><p>“But I feel fine!” Harry bursts out, shoving his half-finished bottle away. “I mean, I’m...shaky, and sort of panicking, and I <i>bloody</i> hate how these monitoring spells feel, it’s like they’re <i>touching</i> me, but...all of that’s normal, surely?”</p><p>Draco nods. “We wouldn’t be feeling anything yet. The stabilising effects of the cellulose would have made it into the smoke, too, and there was a <i>lot</i> in there—it will take anywhere from four to eighteen hours to wear off. And then, <i>if</i> there was any ergot to bring back, we’ll notice the effects almost immediately. If we can make it twenty hours with nothing going wrong, we’ll be able to go home.”</p><p>Harry stands and begins to pace agitatedly. “And what <i>effects</i> should we be looking out for, exactly? <i>Merlin,</i> Draco; I’ve seen what happens when people combine Muggle street drugs with recreational potions—it’s bloody dangerous, <i>deadly</i> even sometimes! Is there anything here that we can use for first aid if we need Healing??” He sits heavily on the sofa and buries his head in his hands.</p><p>The cushion dips as Draco sits next to him, close enough that their thighs are pressed together. He’s speaking quietly, like he’s trying to provide Harry some comfort, but his words bring nothing but horror. “I can’t know for <i>sure,</i> of course, but...the first thing we’ll probably notice is dry mouth, because it will be so sudden. Increased body temperature and dilated pupils will probably come next. Then, euphoria. Sensory hallucinations—most likely visual and tactile. And...sexual arousal. Based on the amount of palladium used…<i>extreme</i> sexual arousal.”</p><p>“So…” Harry says flatly, the truly nasty implications of the monitoring spells sinking in at last. “So, what you’re telling me is that the first time we— when we finally— it’s going to be <i>recorded</i>. People are going to <i>watch,</i> they’re going to take <i>notes,</i> and we don’t even get a say about it.”</p><p>Draco’s quiet, and Harry can feel him shrug. He takes comfort in the warmth of Draco’s body, pressed up against him, and closes his eyes, thinking. Mourning, really, because suddenly that glorious first kiss he’s been so anticipating is going to be stripped away from him.</p><p>Draco’s hand lands hesitantly on his leg, down by his knee, and he chuckles in Harry’s ear. “I guess...well, that answers the question I had, at least.”</p><p>“What question?”</p><p>“How you felt. If we— if you feel the same as I do.”</p><p>Harry covers Draco’s hand with his own. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”</p><p>They sit for a few more minutes, and suddenly Harry yanks his hand back and turns to face Draco directly. “Wait. You didn’t— None of the side effects sounded like either of us are going to lose consciousness, or be pushed into actions we wouldn’t do—this isn’t a love potion, is it, or anything that will make us fully lose our heads...right?”</p><p>Draco shakes his head slowly, pulling back a bit so he can sit sideways and cross-legged on the sofa. “No...it might reduce inhibitions, but there’s no element of compulsion involved. The hallucinations...I don’t <i>think</i> they’ll do anything but let us perceive things that aren’t there. I don’t even think they’ll be auditory. Why?”</p><p>Harry’s smiling, to his own surprise. “Well, we don’t <i>have</i> to let these...potential side effects take that step for us. I mean...we’re on the same page here, right now, yeah? And so...Draco,” he gulps, rubs his palms over his jeans, “Draco, can I kiss you?”</p><p>Draco’s so still, and for a minute Harry thinks he’s made a terrible mistake, but then Draco breathes out a <i>yes</i>, grabs Harry’s shirt and reels him in to press their mouths together, and Harry’s flying.</p><p>The kiss starts gentle, hesitant, as they learn each other’s mouths, but the adrenaline from the earlier accident is still zipping through Harry’s blood, and apparently through Draco’s too, because soon they’re horizontal, legs tangled, Draco curling one arm behind Harry’s back to grope his arse, the other up tugging in his hair.</p><p>Harry moans and grinds down, pressing Draco further into the cushions. He moves to Draco’s neck and sucks, revelling in the whimpers that produces as he leaves red marks all the way down to his collarbone. “Fuck,” Draco hisses, digging his fingers into Harry’s arse hard enough to bruise. “<i>Fuck,</i> Harry.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Harry gasps, breathing into Draco’s neck and closing his eyes, feeling Draco’s cock press against his own through the layers of fabric. He’s sweating, and he can taste salt on Draco’s skin too, and all of this is way hotter than grinding on the sofa like a couple of teenagers has any right to be.</p><p>Draco’s whining, constantly moving now, and Harry can feel the warmth pooling in his thighs, in his lower stomach, at the base of his spine. He’s close, and he thinks Draco is too, based on the desperation in his sounds, in the way he’s pulling at Harry’s curls. Harry thinks about moving to take some of their clothes off, maybe even just unzipping and pulling their trousers down, but he remembers the observation spells—they’re getting enough of a show already, and he doesn’t feel like sharing more of Draco’s skin than he has to, right now.</p><p>It sneaks up on him, and Harry bites hard on Draco’s lower lip by accident as he comes, groaning and shaking as it washes over him. That seems to trigger Draco, too, because he goes totally still and sighs, fingers clenching down and back arching.</p><p>They lie together panting for a while, until Harry’s too uncomfortable to stand it any longer. With a groan, he rolls off onto the floor, sending a lazy cleaning spell over the both of them.</p><p>“Thanks,” Draco gasps out, still clearly catching his breath. His hand falls off the couch, brushing against Harry’s neck, petting down his shoulder and back up until Draco gets his fingers in Harry’s hair.</p><p>The room is quiet again, the silence artificial in the way all the underground Ministry rooms are if the white noise spells are on the blink, and Harry lets himself float, basking in what just happened.</p><p>It’s not ideal, obviously—Harry had a vague idea of a fancy dinner, Draco dressed up like he does sometimes, in the way that leaves Harry tongue-tied; maybe a club and some dancing, or maybe straight back to one of their homes for a drink; a quiet kiss, a soft declaration, a slow tumble into bed, a morning after. This, however, knowing what might be happening in a few hours...this will do just fine. He can always recreate the other thing later, when they’re able to get out of here.</p><p>Finally, they rouse enough to head into the kitchen, where Harry puts together some pasta with chicken for dinner. They eat quietly, feet tangled under the table, and Draco insists that they each drink as much water as they can stand—the side effects will likely cause dehydration, he says, and anything they can do in advance will help.</p><p>Shortly after dinner, they’re both yawning, and head into the bedroom. After they’ve taken their turns in the bathroom and are settled into the bed, Harry rolls onto his side.</p><p>“So, it’s ten now...what hour are we on?”</p><p>Draco’s wand flashes something before he answers. “It’s been about eight hours. I’m not noticing anything yet...you?”</p><p>“No,” Harry confirms, scooting closer and draping his arm over Draco’s chest. “Just...look. If we start noticing something, let’s just plan on getting as physically far apart as we’re able, and talk as reasonably as we can, monitor how we feel and keep checking in, and see what happens. Decide as we go. Does that seem...likely?”</p><p>Draco’s quiet, and when he talks, his words are hesitant. “It...should be. Harry, please understand that I can’t guarantee that <i>anything<i> I’m saying is accurate—this is a brand-new situation, an unexpected accident involving an experimental potion. But...yes, the desire will be there, but we should be able to hold coherent conversations, and nothing...we won’t be acting against our own will. I agree that your plan is probably the best bet we’ve got at this point.” He rolls over onto his side too, pulling Harry closer and kissing him tenderly. Harry melts. “Let’s get some sleep. If it’s going to happen, it could be any time, and I’d like us to get as much rest as we’re able to.”</i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Good night, Draco,” Harry whispers, waving his hand to turn the lights off.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Good night, Harry.”<br/>
</i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
Harry sets his wand alarm to 8 am on weekdays, but the next morning the <i>Tempus</i> floating in the corner shows 7:00 when he jolts awake, frantically kicking all the blankets off because the bedroom is hot, it’s <i>so hot</i> all of a sudden, and he looks over at Draco, and Draco’s awake too, and he’s <i>glowing,</i> his whole body lit from within, and his eyes are so silver, and Harry was wrong, they’re brighter than that metal from yesterday could ever be, and they’re big, getting bigger, and he could just fall into them, he leans forward and reaches out, he wants to touch—
  
</p><p>
  Draco leaps from the bed and dashes into the bathroom, and Harry hears the locks and wards engaged. “I’m going to shower, Harry! I’m going to take a <i>cold shower,</i> and you need to go into the kitchen, and then when I come out I’ll go in the living room while <i>you</i> shower, and then we’ll...we’ll talk and figure something out.” Draco’s voice—Harry isn’t sure how he never noticed, but his voice sounds like a song, like a choir, like a whole group of singers, and he’s moving towards the bathroom door until he catches himself, stops, pants and clenches his fists, and forces himself into the kitchen to wait like Draco said.
  
</p><p>
  There’s a close call when Draco, clad only in his pants and a tight-fitting vest that’s damp from his shower, the cotton translucent at his stomach and along his shoulder blades, walks into the living space, and Harry has to close his eyes to cut off the sight of Draco’s hair, wet and curling and bright from the faint silver halo directly over it. He’s able to resist stepping closer, though, and edges through to the bedroom and turns the water as cold as he can stand, ignoring the rainbows breaking with golden chords onto the glass shower door where the water hits.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The chill from the shower doesn’t last long, though, and soon he’s sweating on the couch, dressed just like Draco in pants and an undershirt, gulping gratefully at the ice-cold water from the pitcher Draco had floated his way from his own seat on the desk furthest from the couch. They were to drink as much as they could, Draco had insisted, and Harry’s seeing the wisdom of that advice now.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“So,” Draco says, as mellifluous as he’d been before, and Harry’s mesmerised by the light around his head, watches as it slowly shifts colours, from that silver he’d seen before to a brighter rose-gold. “Are you feeling okay? Anything happening that we didn’t talk about yesterday?” The colour deepens and Harry smiles—Draco’s a researcher to the core, even during his distraction, which is very obvious by the bulge in his pants and the whites around his knuckles as he clutches at the sides of the chair. Harry discreetly casts a sticking charm at his feet to keep in his seat.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  “I don’t think so…” he says thoughtfully, forcing himself to look up at the clouds floating gently across the ceiling. “The body temperature thing, definitely. I haven’t noticed any dry mouth yet, but I’m sure that’s because I’ve been drowning myself with water for the last twelve hours thanks to you. I’m definitely feeling good—<i>great</i>—and, well…” He gestures sheepishly down at his own pants, which are as visibly tented as Draco’s.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco grimaces. “Right. And the…” He’s distracted a moment, staring at Harry’s arms, then clears his throat. “Sorry. The hallucinations? Are you getting those?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The colour around his head is a stunning, shimmering cerulean now, and Draco’s eyes look so blue. “Yeah. Yes, visual stuff definitely. I haven’t noticed...what did you say, tactile? I haven’t noticed anything like that yet, unless…” He curls his fingers into the nearest throw pillow thoughtfully. “...things feel...more? I guess? Like...this pillow. I noticed it was soft, last night—” Draco’s blush bleeds down from his ears to his collarbones, and Harry thinks if he stuck his tongue out he could almost taste it—it would be strawberries, he decides. “—but today it’s like...Soft. With a capital ess. I don’t know if...that might not make any sense. But it’s different, definitely different. Wow, you’re turning purple!”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco looks down at his arms in alarm. “What? How embarrassing. Are you sure?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry laughs, eyeing the lavender refracted off Draco’s sharp cheekbones. “No, not...you’re glowing. You’ve got a light. It’s turning purple.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  “Oh,” Draco says, distracted now by something over Harry’s shoulder. “Right, of course. You’re not glowing. I mean, you <i>are,</i> but not like that. You’ve got…” Draco points at Harry's arms and traces a vague zigzag pattern in the air, stopping with a sort of swirl at his hands. “Like, lines. They’re light, but when you look at me they get really bright. It’s like it’s coming from inside you. Did you know, Harry, that your eyes actually <i>speak</i>? They are so vivid. They look like they’re made of stone. Did you get something done to them? How have I not noticed they whisper?” He <i>giggles,</i> and Harry plans on storing that sound and its accompanying flash of pink in his Pensieve as soon as they’re out of here. “They’re telling me all your secrets, Harry. You’ve really never lied to me, have you? I can see it, now.”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry nods solemnly. “Yes. Draco, what are we going to do all day? I’m not...if I look at you too long I’m going to cry, I think. It’s too much.” His mouth feels tacky and he’s getting hot again, but the pitcher is empty, so he points his wand at his glass and watches as diamonds pour from the tip and splash in as water, entranced by the sparkle.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Well…” Draco says thoughtfully, and Harry closes his eyes, sinking into the background chords of Draco’s voice. God, it’s beautiful. “There are books in here. There’s a Wireless, although I’m not sure what’s on this time in the morning that’s any good. There’s parchment and quills...I have some projects I’ve been thinking on, for after this one, and I could think about those and take notes…” He draws in a deep breath. “Or...”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry’s eyes snap open at the tone shift, and he stares at Draco, noting the way he’s biting his lower lip, traces the bead of sweat that drips down from his hairline, shimmering rainbow, until it creeps under the collar of his vest.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry takes a drink of water. “Or?” he rasps out, pressing his feet down further into the sticking spell.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Draco’s eyes are flickering all over Harry’s face, his torso, his arms. He slowly releases his fingers from their death grip on the chair and walks over to the couch, sitting at the opposite end. The proximity thickens the air between them, sends sparks dancing back and forth across the space, and Harry can taste ozone and petrichor when he inhales. “Harry, I am...I am desperate to touch you, right now. And some of it is the side effects, and some of it is how I feel <i>all the time</i> when I’m around you, and some of it…” He leans forward, reaches his arm out, fingers pausing just before they touch Harry’s bicep. “Some of it, I must admit, is a burning curiosity to know what’s going to happen if I do.”
  
</p><p>
  Harry feels like he can’t catch his breath, like he’ll never be able to inhale fully again unless he gets Draco’s hands on him. He has never been more present for any experience in his life, he thinks; his eyes are wide-open and he can <i>see,</i> finally, everything he’d only caught glimpses of and hoped for—the warmth in Draco’s eyes, shimmering from the deep-jade pulsing around his head; the minute trembling in his body as he shifts closer to Harry. He’s <i>lucid,</i> he’s here, and <i>Draco</i> is here, and so…
  
</p><p>
 He cancels the sticking spell, then reaches up and grasps the wrist of Draco’s outstretched arm, and they both gasp, and Harry shivers at the zip of electricity. “For the love of Merlin, Draco, <i>touch me then,</i>” he gasps, staring at where his hand encircles Draco’s wrists, watching as a bleed of gold spreads out from under his pressing fingers.
  
</p><p>
  Draco sucks in a breath through his teeth, shaking his hand free and staring down at his wrist, watching as the gold drips further down his arm when he raises it, <i>like paint</i> Harry thinks, mesmerised by the drip, by the slow-falling pattern of shimmering gilt along Draco’s strong forearm.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Wow,” Draco says softly, lost for a moment, until Harry shifts and gets his attention back. He smiles, teeth flashing opalescent, and reaches up, trailing his finger down from Harry’s shoulder to his wrist, and they both stare at the line of flashing silver liquid it leaves in its wake, brighter even than the palladium had been as Draco poured it into the potion yesterday.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco circles his fingers over the back of Harry’s hand, gentling over the scars there, eradicating the ugly words in a wash of lustrous, near-white shine. Harry grits his teeth at the almost painful sparks shooting up his arm. “Damn,” he whispers, clenching his hand when Draco pulls away, watching the pigment drip along the contours of his fist. “Look at that.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco sighs, then moves closer and tugs at the hem of Harry’s shirt. “Off, please,” he whispers, and Harry pulls it over his head, then leans forward and helps Draco out of his, too.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>They look at each other for a while, Harry nearly having to squint at the luminescence of Draco’s shine, and finally Draco reaches forward and firmly plants both his hands on Harry’s chest, pushing him down onto the couch. He straddles Harry’s waist and runs his hands over Harry’s torso, fingers catching on the ridges of his abdominal muscles, leaving waves of silver as he moves his fingers up to circle Harry’s nipples.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry moans and arches his back, reaching up to grasp Draco’s arms, leaving handprints around his lean biceps. He draws along his collarbone, watching the gold drip down over his chest, down down until it reaches…</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh no,” Harry says, distressed, sitting up a bit to get a closer look at the faint scars crisscrossing Draco’s chest. “Is that...are those from…”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco puts a finger to Harry’s lips, dragging it down his chin and under his jaw, eyes moving across Harry’s face. “It’s ok. It doesn’t matter anymore, Harry—they don’t hurt any longer, and you can barely see them, so it’s not like I look that bad unless you’re very close and the lights are up.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Harry looks up to meet Draco’s gaze, incredulous. “You think you look <i>bad</i>??”
  
</p><p>
 Draco drops his eyes at that. “Well, I mean...not <i>bad,</i> I suppose, but…”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry’s angry, suddenly, and jostles them both about until he’s sitting up, back resting against the arm of the sofa, and Draco’s legs are around his waist. He isn’t sure when they lost their pants, but they’re both hard, Harry notes absently when his erection presses into Draco’s, but it’s incidental, an afterthought, of far less urgency than clearing up what’s just been said.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Draco,” he says, leaning forward until he’s speaking right into Draco’s ear, lipping along his neck. He wraps his arms around Draco’s torso, pulling his hands down from the tops of his shoulders down to his waist, leaving glowing gold streaks down the whole of Draco’s back, which breaks into goosebumps at Harry’s touch. “Draco, Draco, don’t you know how beautiful you are?” He pulls back, admiring the kiss marks shining along Draco’s neck, and brings his hands back front to trace slowly along each of Draco’s scars.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco shivers in his lap, arching his chest closer as Harry drags his fingers over each raised line, and the friction between their erections suddenly becomes too much to ignore, and Harry drops his hands to Draco’s hips, leaving burning-bright fingerprints as he pulls him closer.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh fuck,” Draco gasps, grinding down and reaching up to clutch Harry’s shoulders, hauling him in for a kiss.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Draco’s kiss is—<i>stunning</i> is the only word Harry can think of for it as he lets himself be carried along. Last night had been amazing, but he feels like he’s sinking directly into Draco’s skin right now, like there isn’t even room for air between them. He imagines floating out of his body to look down at the two of them, moving together on the couch, a mess of black and blond and tan and pale and silver and gold, dripping over everything.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He thinks they’d look like a painting, one that would be gilded over in parts to catch the light, one Harry would like to hang in his bedroom.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Harry reaches his hand down between them and catches their cocks together, gold falling from his fingers to slick the way. Draco’s head falls back and he lets out breathy <i>ah-ah-ahs</i> as he thrusts forward, gripping Harry’s arms for support.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“God,” Harry hisses, and suddenly it’s too much, he can’t breathe, and he pushes Draco off his lap. He rolls off the couch as Draco struggles back up to sit, and Harry frantically arranges him into a seated position, streaking his calves with colour until Draco’s slumped down on the couch, Harry kneeling between his parted thighs.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
 “<i>Harry,</i>” Draco cries out as Harry takes his cock in his mouth and sinks down as far as he can, relishing in the heaviness against his tongue, nudging at the back of his throat. 
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Sliding a finger into his mouth, Harry works his tongue over Draco’s length, pulling back and letting his finger draw down Draco’s cock until he pulls it free. He runs it around Draco’s prick, sinking down closer to the golden ring at the base as he trails his hand back, back, cupping Draco’s balls maybe a bit too hard if Draco’s arched back is anything to go by, then pushing back until his spit-wet finger is circling Draco’s hole.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Please, please,” Draco chants, and, well, Harry is nothing if not obliging, so he sinks further down, then nudges his finger <i>in,</i>, and thankfully he thought to rest his other arm over Draco’s hips, because he’s whining and trying to buck up, and he’s bigger than Harry’s used to, and Harry doesn’t want to choke.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
“Fuck,” and Draco’s nails scrape up Harry’s scalp and pull on his curls, and he whines in response, as best he can with his mouth full, and twists his finger until he hits the spot that makes Draco cry out and pull his hair harder, and Harry <i>knows</i> what Draco’s going to taste like, so he doubles down, ignoring his aching jaw in favour of Draco’s pleasure, and when Draco comes against the back of his throat, Harry almost comes too, completely untouched.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He pulls back, swallowing hard, and rocks back on his heels. “Shit,” he whines, taking himself in hand and staring up at Draco, who’s sprawled against the couch, flushed and panting and almost enough to finish Harry off on sight alone.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Wait,” Draco says, and suddenly Harry’s being pushed onto the floor. “Harry, can I...I want to…”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Anything,” Harry groans as his back hits the floor, reaching up and grasping the back of Draco’s neck, watching the gold start to drip down around Draco’s throat before he’s prodded over onto his front; it’s enough to give him a hint as to what’s next, and he bites down on his own forearm as he wiggles his arse up. “Please, whatever you want.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco’s fingers are feather-light down his spine, drawing goosebumps along Harry’s back in their wake, until they reach his arse and Draco’s grip goes firm, pressing down into the muscle and spreading him apart with his thumbs. “Oh hell,” Draco mutters, and Harry closes his eyes and thinks of what he must look like to Draco right now, the designs on his back and silver fingerprints all down his arse, and now, with Draco’s hands holding him open…</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  The feeling of Draco’s tongue against his hole shouldn’t be a surprise, but Harry has to bite his arm again to stop from thrusting back too hard. His moan escapes, though, and Draco sighs against him as he pulls back. “<i>Look</i> at you,” he groans, and Harry feels hot and shivery under the perusal—thankfully Draco gets back to it quickly.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry’s eyes are screwed shut, but he can still see bursts of colour behind his eyelids as Draco wiggles his tongue in, followed shortly by a finger, which he crooks until it expertly hits Harry’s prostate. He knows he’s making sounds, possibly even saying words, but he couldn’t identify what they are if you paid him, right now.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  There’s heat blooming in his lower back, and Draco’s finger is unrelenting against his prostate, and he’s got Harry’s bollocks in his other hand, deft fingers fondling them <i>just right</i> while his thumb presses behind them in firm circles. Harry’s thighs are shaking and he’s having a hard time catching his breath, but it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to breathe, not when Draco’s hands are on him, Draco’s tongue is <i>in</i> him, Draco’s fingerprints are streaked all over his skin.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He feels like he’s been hard for so long by now that his orgasm rushes in on him, a full-body tingle cresting through him as he shivers and cries out and buries his closed eyes against his arm in an effort to block out the blinding white light.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
 Harry feels like he’s floating, almost, suspended in air as he shakes and shakes and it seems to last forever, surely he’ll have to stop coming <i>eventually,</i> but oh God it feels so <i>good</i>...
  
</p><p>
He comes to, finally, to discover that Draco’s turned him back onto his back and is lying next to him. They’re both panting, and Harry’s suddenly <i>hot,</i> hotter than he was before this started, and his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth—he can’t even imagine how Draco must be feeling—and his eyes hurt.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Bed,” Draco mumbles, and Harry groans his protesting assent, hauling himself to his feet and dragging Draco after. He feels like he’s taken a full-body beating, but he’s able to manoeuvre them into the bedroom, grabbing a wand and a glass on the way in.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He conjures up some water and they each drink a glass, and Draco flicks his fingers tiredly to sort of clean them off, and when they tumble into bed Harry falls asleep so quickly he barely feels the flicker of a kiss dropped against his shoulder.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  He <i>does</i> feel it, though.<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
Harry’s woken some indeterminate time later, head pounding and mouth just an absolute <i>desert,</i> to the sound of raised voices that are too indistinct to make out.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He finds his clothes, which thankfully appear to have been cleaned, folded on the bench at the foot of the bed, and drags them on before shuffling out into the main living space to investigate the shouting.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
“—should never have even <i>considered</i>—oh, Harry, I’m so sorry, did we wake you up?” Draco whirls around from where he’d been face-to-face with an Unspeakable, eyes tracing over Harry’s body frantically. “Are you alright?”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Er—” Harry scratches his hair, suddenly aware of what a mess he must be as he’s confronted by Draco at his shiniest and most buttoned-up. “Yeah, I mean...I feel a bit like I’ve been run over by the Knight Bus, and I’ve never been more thirsty in my life, but—other than that, I’m...great, really.” He chances a smile at Draco, whose eyes gleam in response.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
He doesn’t smile, though, and after a quick nod and floating a glass of water Harry’s direction, turns back to the Unspeakable, jabbing a finger into his chest. “We are <i>not</i> done with this conversation,” he hisses, then steps back and crosses his arms.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry sips his drink and smiles a little to himself. He sends the glass bobbing back to the kitchen when he’s done, then clears his throat. “So...I take it that the reappearance of your...colleague here means that it’s all over?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco nods shortly, gaze still fixed on the robed figure. “Yes. It’s two in the morning—we slept almost twelve hours, did you know?—and Unspeakable Ray here has been sent to escort us out of the lockdown suites.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Excellent,” Harry says brightly, clapping his hands together and looking about for his wand. Draco tosses it his way without looking, and Harry almost fumbles the catch—he’ll blame the dehydration. “Thanks. Well, if we can leave, let’s get out of here, yeah? The damn monitoring spells are making me itchy again.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  The Unspeakable—surely <i>Ray</i> has to be a code name of some sort, at least Harry hopes so for his sake—pivots, and Harry sways on his feet as the wards drop, swallowing hard at the sudden nausea. Draco’s at his elbow instantly, holding him steady until it passes, and when the vertigo’s gone Harry shoots him a grateful smile, and they exit the suites.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The door seals up behind them and disappears into the wall, as does the doorway to the mysterious staircase as soon as they’re half down the hallway (Harry sneaks a glance back to watch, and he thinks Draco laughs at him).</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>They’re escorted through the hallways and up the lift, stepping out on a floor that Harry thought belonged to Transportation, but apparently also holds Draco’s office, where Harry’s never been—a fact that should have struck him as odd before, but hasn’t. He stands and stares at the window scene while he thinks about why that might be, back politely turned to the row behind him.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  There are three Unspeakables waiting for them, all with the unsettling empty hood charm in effect, and Draco immediately pulls one of them aside and starts an animated, but quiet, argument. He’s keeping his voice down, and even though Harry can’t hear anything the Unspeakable is saying—he assumes the wix is talking based on the gestures, but something is blocking the sound, and Harry had heard <i>rumours</i> that there were spells like that, to prevent people who didn’t have proper clearance or weren’t read in from hearing certain Unspeakables talk at <i>all,</i> but nobody thought they were <i>real</i>—he steps away to allow them to conduct their business in privacy.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He finds that he can’t focus on any of the papers strewn over Draco’s desk, but that’s fine—the window view appears to be charmed to a rerun of the last World Cup Finals game, and it had been thrilling, so Harry’s quite content to watch the action play out again.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He starts at the tap on his shoulder, but when he turns around it’s to Draco’s smile, and he’s holding two vials—one filled with what Harry recognises by its purple shine as the potion from two days ago, and the other—</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“...what is it, exactly, that you do for Mysteries again?” Harry ventures, eyeing the grey-silver swirl of Pensieve-ready recorded memories in the other glass. He’s pretty sure that, since it was such a big deal they spend time in the monitored rooms in the first place, Draco isn’t supposed to have what looks to be the original recordings.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Please,” Draco says, waving his free hand. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I need about a dozen hydrating potions, followed by about a dozen full breakfasts—do you want to come back to mine? The hydrators you Aurors stock here are shit, I’ve got better ones at home.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Sure,” Harry mutters. “Awfully nice of you to keep a better hydrator away from the MLE; Mysteries not interested in sharing?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  “<i>Mysteries</i> has nothing to do with these—I made them myself,” Draco says smugly, snapping his fingers. A fireplace pops into view on the far wall, and—Harry thought only department heads were allowed to have working Floos in their offices? “MLE couldn’t afford my brewing. <i>You,</i> however, are welcome to them—to <i>anything</i> of mine—whenever you need.” Draco flashes a smirk over his shoulder, and Harry blushes down to his feet.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Malfoy Annexe,” Draco calls after tossing the Floo powder in, and as the flames turn green he tugs Harry in after him, the fireplace expanding to accommodate them both at once as Harry’s foot crosses onto the hearth.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>It’s an uncharacteristically smooth ride that deposits them into an expensive-looking receiving room. “Where do you live?” Harry asks, walking to the window and peering out into the garden.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  “Harley Gardens. There’s a <i>car park</i> underground,” Draco says proudly, pronouncing the words carefully. “Come, let’s go to the kitchen—I’m bloody famished, and the potions are in the Muggle cold storage unit—refrigger-thingy.”
  
</p><p>
 Harry steps back and obediently follows Draco out, admiring the dark hardwood flooring that his boots make a satisfying <i>click</i> over as they walk up to the first floor. “Fridge. Do you <i>have</i> a car?” He thinks Draco would look quite nice in something flash and sporty, maybe a convertible. Maybe Harry will buy him one.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I do not, as I have not yet learned to drive,” Draco says primly as they walk into the kitchen. He gestures Harry to a seat at the breakfast bar before rustling through the fridge, pulling out four glass bottles filled with blue liquid. “Do you have a car?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Harry takes the two offered bottles and swallows the entirety of one before he answers. He’s already feeling better—Draco’s right, the Ministry hydration potions <i>are</i> shit in comparison, and he’s never using them again if he has anything to do with it. “I do; Hermione taught me to drive, and I, err...got a bit <i>into</i> it for a while. I’ve got three. They’re parked at the house in Godric’s since Grimmauld doesn’t have the space for a garage, even with spells, and they’re quite expensive so I don’t want them out on the street. If you want, I could teach you.”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco’s finished his first potion as well, and is now sipping at the second bottle. “That would be...well, I’m assuming Granger wouldn’t have let you on the road alone if she wasn’t satisfied with your skills, so I will consider it.” He sounds formal, stilted in the way that Harry hasn’t heard since they first started spending time together—Draco’s anxious, he realises, and Harry has to hide a smile behind a sip of hydrator.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  “So…” Harry says deliberately, setting the bottle onto the breakfast bar. “I’m assuming one of those vials you’ve got hidden away in your robes—where even <i>are</i> the pockets in those things, they fit like a glove but you’re forever pulling odds and ends out from nowhere—contains the output from the monitoring spells in our little <i>pied-à-terre</i>. Does that mean we’re...nobody will be able to see exactly what happened?”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco pulls the vials out and sets them on the counter, frowning slightly. “Unfortunately, I can’t be sure. This is the original, yes—we can destroy it, or put it in a Gringotts vault or something, and since we have these no new duplicates can be made—but it’s entirely possible there are already copies floating around Mysteries. I was fairly clear in my displeasure, though, so anyone who’s got one should have the good sense to either destroy it or stash it somewhere safe, which will mean no reviews of it or I’ll find out. I’m sorry I can’t guarantee your privacy, Harry, but this was the best I could do. Someone might try to pull me up for it, but, well, once my report processes through about how this happened, they’ll probably drop it—this was a chance event, and not one that advances the goal of the initial brew, so they’ll probably just have me pick up where I left off.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
 Harry decides that he does <i>not</i> want to know exactly how Draco would discover if anyone in his department was reviewing the monitoring spells, nor is he interested in further explanations as to who ‘they’ might be. “It’s fine. I mean...well, it’s not <i>fine,</i> but there’s nothing else to be done for it, so no use agonising over it all. And...the potion sample? Are you going to be able to work backwards and remove the contaminant?”
  
</p><p>
  Draco taps the purple vial idly, and they quiet for a moment as it chimes much louder (and more melodically) than it should. Harry notes a flash of blue behind Draco’s left ear, which disappears as soon as the sound fades. “Interesting,” Draco mutters, producing a quill and parchment and jotting down a quick note before turning back to Harry. “To answer your question...I cannot, although that would make my job easier, wouldn’t it? No, I’ll unfortunately have to start from scratch for the respiratory potion. This sample, though...I wanted to study it more, see what else can be done with it. No practical purpose whatsoever, but it was...interesting, to say the least,” and now Draco’s <i>blushing,</i> and Harry’s delighted.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“That’s one way to put it,” he says, lowering his voice just a bit to see Draco’s eyes flash. Their gazes lock for a moment, but Harry looks away with effort; he’s got things he needs to say to Draco, and now that they’re back in full control of their faculties he doesn’t want to rush things. He nods towards the vial. “It’s such a small sample, though—how are you going to get any testing done?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco looks shifty all of a sudden. “Ah—well,” he starts, and Harry’s jaw drops.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  “You have a replicator!” He doesn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but, well—potions replicators are <i>illegal,</i> and for good reason; before the Ministry started cracking down on possession, illegal potions dealers were replicating their most addictive elixirs at a blistering rate, flooding the market with brews that were not only dangerous in their original iterations, but had been altered slightly during the artificial replication, creating unpredictable and frequently fatal side effects.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I have papers for it!” Draco says hastily. “Special dispensation from the Minister, if you must know—nobody’s supposed to know that I have it, Kingsley even was Obliviated after he signed off at his request, Saul’s really the only person who’s aware—well, and now you. And yes, I know, it doesn’t make perfect copies, but for the types of testing I use it for, that won’t matter—the alterations should be mostly dampened by the cellulose, and as I’ll only be replicating off the original, it won’t get out of control.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry sighs. “Well—since I’m assuming you’re aware of what my clearance level is, you wouldn’t have told me about this unless your story could be verified either by genuine papers or excellent forgeries—so I’ll assume you’re telling the truth.” He winks at Draco, who smirks back. Cheeky git. “And, look, I was thinking…” Harry shifts on his stool a bit, wondering how to phrase this.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
Draco uses his pause to Vanish all four empty hydrators and Summon a packet of biscuits. “Don’t be embarrassed, Potter,” he drawls. “After yesterday, I’m awfully keen to hear more of your <i>ideas</i>.” And now Harry’s the one blushing.
  
</p><p>
  He takes a deep breath. “Well, I was thinking. It was...fun. I mean, it was <i>amazing</i>—I don’t need to tell you that, though, you were there. I’d...well, I’d maybe want to try it again, if you could figure out how to keep our body temperatures from going so high, and reduce the dehydration thing—that part wasn’t great, and even though we basically drank the Great Lake yesterday I woke up more thirsty than I’ve ever been in my entire life. But...if that could be fixed...I mean, if you wanted a test subject, consider me signed up.” Harry smiles and rubs his palms against his jeans before continuing. “And also. Draco, I think we’ve spent more than enough time dancing around what’s going on here. We sort of...I mean, we talked around it a bit the other night, but...I like you. I <i>really</i> like you, and you feel the same way, and I want to be with you. I think we should be together. What do <i>you</i> think?”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>There’s a long pause before Harry gathers the courage to look up, but Draco’s got that funny little smile he does sometimes, when he thinks Harry’s not looking at him. “Yes, fine. I...yes, I agree.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Harry’s massively relieved, but he can’t help but snort. “You <i>agree</i>? Merlin, Draco, your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” he says flatly, smiling when Draco rolls his eyes.
  
</p><p>
  He forces down two biscuits and cracks a massive yawn before casting a <i>Tempus</i>. “Oh fuck, it’s half four. Is it Friday now? Never mind, I’m Owling Robards to say I’m taking the day off—I need sleep, I don’t care that we just got twelve hours. Do you want me to go home?”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco blinks, then smiles. “If you...you’re welcome to stay, Harry, if you’d like. I’d like it if you did.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  “Great,” Harry yawns again, stumbling to his feet. “Take me to bed. Merlin, I’m too tired to even <i>do</i> anything with that. Rain check for tomorrow?”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco chuckles and tugs Harry out of the room. “You may regret this when you realise the master suite is still three floors up.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh, bugger.”<br/>
</i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i><br/>
Harry had woken up to an owl from Robards informing him that his day off was no problem, considering the incident from two days prior. He’d frowned at the letter, because he hadn’t actually sent notice in yet—but he shrugged it off, assuming some sort of inter-departmental memo had been sent. For the best, really, since he hadn’t exactly been in the right headspace to notify Robards of anything on Thursday morning when he’d woken already under the potion’s side effects.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He’d gleefully grabbed at his long weekend with both hands and imposed on Draco for the full three days, although Draco himself probably hadn’t thought of it as much of a burden if the small smile on his face the entire time was any indication.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>They’d carried on with their previous patterns—dinners, walks, shopping—but now Harry held Draco’s hand wherever they went, and guided him through doors with his hand at the small of Draco’s back (Draco tolerated this with amusement), and let Draco feed him dessert over the table, and otherwise put on such an excessive display of coupley softness that Ron declared them ‘disgusting’ and ‘off-putting’ through the Floo when Harry called to cancel dinner on Saturday night (citing a sudden conflict, trying to keep his voice steady and hoping he wasn’t flushing too obviously as Draco worked his fingers into him from behind), but his voice was full of good humour and he’d winked at Harry before cutting the connection.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry had missed his usual chatter with Ron and Hermione, but Draco holding his hands over his head on the rug while he shagged Harry so slowly he was crying by the end definitely beat out their normal dinner plans.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The papers had a field day, of course—they haven’t known what to make of Draco since the war, and his pardon with no trial, and his mysterious-yet-prominent role at the Ministry juxtaposed against his wild club nights (in the early days) and lavish charity balls, and of course his more recent friendship with Harry. This new development had them in a frenzy, and Harry’s been having the time of his life providing increasingly-ridiculous quotes filled with sleazy, barely-disguised innuendo.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Molly had sent him a Howler for one particularly off-colour remark. Draco’d laughed himself sick listening.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>After a few weeks, though, things are finally starting to calm down, and Harry is weaving his way through the Ministry one morning, coffee and pastry bag in hand and doing his best to overcome the mid-week slump with thoughts of their reservation at The Ledbury tonight—he’d mentioned it off-hand over the weekend, and Draco had magically come up with a table for the next day, and Harry isn’t sure he wants to know how he managed to skip the multi-month waiting list.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He’s whistling as he heads down the hallway, smiling and waving at everyone he passes. A few people scowl at his overt display of cheeriness, but Harry isn’t bothered—he’s happier than he ever has been in his whole life.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Morning, Ron!” he sings out, breezing into their shared office. Ron’s head-down on his desk, but he perks up a bit when Harry floats a croissant his direction. “Picked up breakfast if you want some. No offense, mate, but you look like shit—late night?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Ron’s halfway through the pastry before he answers. “Mum,” he says morosely, and Harry wrinkles his nose sympathetically—Molly’s gone a bit unhinged recently, with Charlie declaring he doesn’t plan on ever marrying or having children, and she’s been inflicting her desire for more grandchildren on all her other progeny in a panicked response ever since. Apparently Ron’s time has come due.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Hermione can’t be too pleased with that,” Harry offers, sorting through his in-tray.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  “Understatement,” Ron groans, tipping his chair back and staring dejectedly at the ceiling. “I try to put Mum off, y’know, but Hermione thinks I’m <i>letting her run roughshod all over,</i> and <i>it’s our decision, Ron, not hers, and all you’re doing when you appease her like this is—</i> Oi, mate, I don’t know why you’re snickering, it’ll be your turn before long. She won’t care that you and Malfoy just got together, the tear she’s on.”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry stops laughing abruptly. “Fuck, you’re probably right. Well, maybe I’ll just stay with Draco more, then. His Floo is warded to the teeth—I don’t think even your mum could get through.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Ha bloody ha, you smug bastard. Your honeymoon period will end eventually, you know,” Ron says threateningly. “Hey, speaking of—why didn’t you tell me you were taking a holiday? Where’s Malfoy whisking you off to? No doubt somewhere disgustingly over-the-top, flash bastard.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I’ll be sure to tell Draco you’re endlessly jealous of our relationship and are waiting in the wings in case we break up,” Harry says absently, frowning at the opened WR memo near the bottom of the pile of today’s new messages. “What are you talking about, anyway? I’m not going on holiday.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“But you got— Oh, it’s that one,” Ron says, gesturing at the chartreuse paper. “Was already on your desk when I got in, I opened it. Figured if you were getting disciplined for something I should know about it. Lot less interesting when it was just a time off approval.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Sorry to disappoint,” Harry deadpans, flipping the paper open.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
 
      <i>Dear Mr Potter,</i>
    
  
</p><p>
 
      <i>Your time off request for Monday 18th August, duration ten working days, has been approved.</i>
    
  
</p><p>
 
      <i>The Wizarding Relations Department appreciates your accurate, completed paperwork, and hopes that this is the beginning of an improved pattern of behaviour for the future.</i>
    
  
</p><p>
  
      <i>Sincerely,</i>
    
  
</p><p>

      <i>Louis Humphrey<br/>
Wizarding Relations<br/>
Ministry of Magic</i>
    
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry frowns. “I didn’t submit this…” he says slowly, then yelps as the paper duplicates itself in his hand, the replica shimmering to a much more pleasant lavender shade.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Bloody hell,” Ron groans, and Harry looks his way in time to see the eye-roll. “Your boyfriend just can’t help himself, can he? He makes a scene wherever he goes.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry grins and drops the chartreuse paper in favour of examining Draco’s note.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  
      <i>Harry,</i>
    
  
</p><p>
  
      <i>Hope you don’t mind that I submitted a time-off request on your behalf. It was nothing, really—you can express your appreciation tonight. </i>
    
  
</p><p>
 
      <i>I believe you expressed your willingness to act as a test subject a few weeks ago?</i>
    
  
</p><p>
  
      <i>If you’ve changed your mind, I’m sure we can find other ways to occupy ourselves.</i>
    
  
</p><p>
  
      <i>-D x</i>
    
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry sucks in a breath and adjusts himself, grateful that he’s still in his Auror robes.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“What is it?” Ron asks curiously.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Nothing!” Harry says hastily, shoving Draco’s note into his pocket and smiling in a no-doubt manic fashion. “Not a thing. I, err. Yes, the time off—as it so happens, I’d forgotten that—”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh, come off it, Harry—everyone knows Draco’s fully capable of accessing your personnel files and submitting a request as if he were you. I’m not going to say anything, you know.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Harry blinks. <i>Everyone</i> knows? His files are locked up tight, and he’d been under the impression that only he, Robards, and the Minister could easily pull them, with Ron granted provisional access in an emergency if some sort of administrative paperwork was required and Harry was incapacitated.
  
</p><p>
  He shrugs it off. At this point, he’s pretty sure he’ll never actually know where, exactly, Draco stands in the Mysteries hierarchy, and how he’s able to get away with everything he does. “Well, in that case—yes, Draco submitted this for me, but we’re not going anywhere.” He smirks at Ron, whose eyes narrow suspiciously. “Well, that’s not <i>entirely</i> true—every time we’re together, he takes me—”
  
</p><p>
  “Shut <i>up</i> you absolute <i>shit</i> of a human being, you’re not my best friend anymore, we have <i>discussed boundaries</i>!” Ron cries, dropping his chair flat and burying his head in his arms on the desk.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry snickers, drops the WR memo in the bin, and puts the entire thing from his mind. If he lets himself think about what Draco’s note says too much, he won’t get anything done today, and he has no intention of staying late tonight and missing their reservation.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco’s tight-lipped at dinner, though, and won’t say anything beyond telling Harry there’s no use snooping, making that puppy-dog face, or begging—although they can revisit that last one later on in the night, if Harry wishes. He’ll just have to wait the nine days until the weekend before his time off is scheduled to start, and that’s all Draco will say on the subject.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He does a good enough job distracting Harry for the rest of the night that he forgets to ask any more questions, and Harry decides to forgive him for his reticence and do his best to be patient.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p><p>
  Finally, <i>finally,</i> Harry sends off his last report the Friday before his time off and waves jauntily at Ron as he heads out. Ron fakes gagging onto his paperwork—he’d banned any talk of Harry’s sex-cation, not that Harry was <i>actually</i> inclined to share any real details, but he did enjoy winding Ron up—but returns Harry’s wave with a cheesy thumbs-up and a sing-song ‘have fuuu-uuuuuun…’
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry hoists his bag onto his shoulder and makes for the Floo bank—he has to use a specific fireplace, hidden off in a corner that Harry had somehow never noticed before Draco pointed it out, because none of the other public Floos are keyed into Draco’s home. Harry had suggested that he could just use the one in Draco’s office, but that had been met with a blank stare and a subject change, and when Harry thought about it later, he realised that he had no memory of how to get to Draco’s office. He’s not even sure what floor it’s on.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  He’s a little nervous, truth be told, now that it’s actually time—Harry knows Draco would never give him anything actually harmful, but last time had been <i>intense,</i> and he’s not sure he’ll actually survive a full two weeks of that.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He tumbles into Draco’s receiving room (never as gracefully as that first trip when Draco’d brought him along, and Harry cannot for the life of him figure out what he’s doing wrong) and is caught up against Draco’s torso and drawn into a long kiss before he fully catches his breath.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco lets him go after a minute and steps back, eyes shining. “Welcome home,” he says, smirking at Harry’s no-doubt dazed expression.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Right,” Harry says, shaking his head. “So, are you done with the cryptic act? Do we get to actually talk about what the reason for this little holiday is, now? And, more pressingly, what are we doing for dinner? I came straight from work.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco smiles at that. “Yes I am, yes we will, and dinner is all ready in the kitchen.” He sweeps out of the room.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Harry reluctantly follows. Draco’s been determined over the last few weeks to learn how to use the Muggle features in his home, especially when Harry promised him a car if he learned how to operate the appliances without magic (he’s got his eye on a Maserati, because <i>of course</i> he does, although Harry and his Ferrari can’t really throw stones), and while he’s adapted quickly to the washing machine, tumble dryer, and entertainment systems, Draco’s Adventures in Cooking have been met with…<i>very</i> limited success. “Oh? Did you...what did you make?”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco pauses on the stairs and glances back. “Oh, no, I didn’t cook. Just, the takeaway got here before you did, so I put it out on dishes while I was waiting.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry’s much more enthusiastic after that.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>They eat and chat, but Harry’s nearly vibrating in anticipation, and by the time Draco’s started the dishwasher (another appliance he’s mastered) and poured them some wine, his foot is beating a steady staccato on the floor.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  “So,” Draco says, quirking an eyebrow at Harry’s very visible display of nerves. “After much intense work—<i>hours</i> in the lab, tweaking and perfecting the formula—”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“You’ve barely spent an hour a day down there, what are you talking about?” Harry interjects.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  “—and <i>after all that labour,</i>” Draco says louder, loftily ignoring Harry’s interruption, “I am pleased to tell you that I believe I’ve come up with an iteration that should completely eliminate the dehydration issue, and mostly solve for the elevated temperature. So…” His gaze turns dark, and Harry shivers. “If you’re still interested in testing it out, we could take it tomorrow morning and go out for breakfast—it should kick in after about two hours, and last no more than four.”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry’s nodding almost before Draco finishes talking. “Yes, yes. Absolutely. Please. Yes.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco’s smile has too many teeth. “Eager, are we? Maybe we should go work off a little of that excess energy, Potter. What do you say? Are you done with your wine?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry drains his glass with alacrity and crowds Draco up the stairs, pulling his clothes off as they go. Draco will pitch a fit about wrinkles in the morning, but he can’t be arsed to care about that right now.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p><p>
  Draco’s estimation that the potion won’t take effect until two hours after ingestion proves to be <i>incredibly</i> off—Harry drops far too many Galleons onto the table as he hustles them out, and won’t <i>that</i> be a headline tomorrow. They stumble into the Floo room and Draco’s on Harry almost immediately, pushing him against the wall and running his fingers all over Harry’s face, staring avidly.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Beautiful,” he murmurs, scratching his nails down Harry’s neck and making him hiss before he yanks his own shirt off. “Tell me, Harry,” and his tone is somehow almost clinical even as he’s pulling Harry’s shirt up and off and getting to work on his button fly, “are you seeing the glow again? Do my fingers feel warmer than normal on your skin?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry sags against the wall and pants, letting Draco strip him bare. Reaching out, he paints gold along Draco’s collarbone and trails down his torso. “Warm...yes, you’re warm. You’re always so warm...you smell like cinnamon today, did you know?” He leans in and tucks his face into Draco’s neck, nibbling at his tendon. “Taste like caramel, though. Draco, can we go to your bedroom? I like your bedroom. You look pretty with the blue sheets.” He brings his hands around Draco’s waist and dips them under his trousers.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco inhales sharply. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, hang on,” and suddenly they’re twisting through space, landing on Draco’s big, comfortable mattress.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Harry blinks up into Draco’s face. “Did you just Apparate us? You didn’t even have your wand out...bloody hot, how did you <i>do</i> that?”
  
</p><p>
  Draco sits up and wiggles out of his trousers and pants. “Very motivated to get <i>your</i> wand out. God, I need to touch you.”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry sits up and helps push Draco’s trousers the rest of the way off his legs, then rolls them until he’s on top, bracketing Draco’s head with his arms and leaning down for a searing kiss.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>It’s...not quite the same as last time, and for the most part that’s a good thing—no dry mouth, no tacky sweat from elevated body temperatures—but Harry can’t see more than a hint of the glowing aura Draco had before, and he misses the insight it gave him towards Draco’s feelings.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Or, well, what he perceived them to be. He’s a lot more clear-headed this time around too, and the seesaw between his sober mind and this altered sensory experience is a little dizzying if he thinks about it too hard.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco’s whimpers bring his focus back to the present, though, and he pulls back enough to get a hand between them, groping down until he’s cupping Draco’s bollocks with the exact right amount of pressure that always makes Draco cry out. He’s not disappointed.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry sits up after one last kiss, scooting down until he can get a good look at Draco’s body, torso speckled with gold fingerprints, balls almost completely gilded over. Draco tilts his pelvis up and Harry watches as the gold drips down towards his arse.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  “Oh <i>God,</i> look at that,” he moans. “Draco, Jesus, can I fuck you? I’ve got to—I <i>need</i> to. Please?”
  
</p><p>
  Draco’s writhing on his bedspread, hand clamped on Harry’s legs just above his knees, clenching spasmodically as Harry’s hand moves up to his cock, trailing fingers around the head and over the shaft. “Fuuu<i>uuuu</i>ck, yes, Harry, do it,” he groans. Harry smooths his free hand down Draco’s thigh and watches silver bleed and drip out from where Draco’s fingers are pressed down. He’ll probably have bruises there tomorrow, proper marks that anyone could see, and he shivers.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>A bottle of lube hits Harry’s shoulder, and as soon as he’s got his fingers slicked up and nudging at Draco’s entrance, time seems to expand and contract irregularly—he spends hours easing his first finger in, refusing to go faster despite Draco’s increasingly desperate pleas, pets at his prostate for days until tears are leaking from Draco’s eyes, but then in the blink of an eye he’s got three fingers pumping in and out, leaning over Draco and kissing him, sweat stinging his eyes, cock so hard that the drag of Draco’s leg hair against it causes him to cry out and jerk away lest he come right then.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  He feels superheated everywhere they touch, each point of contact in danger of burning, and he can’t get enough of it, needs more, needs Draco’s whole body to gleam gold, needs to press them together until they immolate. He’s barely slicked his own cock up before Draco’s desperately grabbing it and guiding it into himself, leaving slippery silver streaks where he touches. Harry tries to slow down, but Draco hooks his legs behind Harry’s back and <i>pulls,</i> and Harry almost chokes as he’s buried to the hilt.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>They breathe together for a moment, then Draco shifts his hips and digs his nails into Harry’s back, drawing stinging lines down to the top of his arse, and Harry whines and starts to move, long deep thrusts that brush that spot in Draco that gets him shouting with each pass.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Harry feels like he’s falling, sways on his knees a bit and closes his eyes to ground himself so he doesn’t <i>actually</i> fall forward and hurt them both. He opens them and looks down at Draco, head thrown back, the tendons in his neck straining, blond hair fanning out over the navy coverlet, the veins in his arms in sharp relief with every muscle drawn tight, and he can’t hold back any longer.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He practically bends Draco in half and pounds into him, and the angle change has Draco howling, hands clutched tight around Harry’s biceps, unable to push back against Harry’s cock, unable to do anything but just hang on. Harry’s eyes are open but his vision is fuzzing, blacking out around the edges, tunneling in on Draco’s face, Draco’s eyes, so wide, shining silver just like the marks he’s left all over Harry’s skin. There’s a roaring in his ears, and he gets a hand on Draco’s cock and jerks him rapidly, gritting his teeth, unsure how much longer he can hold out.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>After just a few strokes Draco comes with a shout, clamping down hard, and Harry tumbles over the edge at the additional pressure, whining and nearly growling into Draco’s neck as he pitches forward.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry manages to pull out and roll over onto the bed, but he’s hazy and floating just like last time, and he’s not sure how much time has passed when he finally feels able to sit up.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco is staring blankly up at the ceiling, still heaving in breaths and shivering slightly. “Fuck,” he whispers, and Harry grins.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yeah.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Once Harry’s steady, he heads into the en-suite, wets a flannel, and grabs two cups. Draco takes the rag with murmured thanks and cleans himself off while Harry fills the glasses with water, and they both flop back onto the bed when the cups are drained and the coverlet’s been shot with a Scourgify. The potion must be mostly out of their systems already, because when he looked at himself in the mirror the silver streaks on his torso were fading, and he can hardly see any gold on Draco anymore either.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  “So…” Draco pants, still out of breath. “How do you feel? Compared to last time, I mean. I <i>know</i> you feel good,” and oh, is he ever smug.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry turns his head, gazes at Draco’s dear, dear profile, tears prickling at his eyes from the rush of affection that crests over him. “Um.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, a lot better physically—I’m no more thirsty than I normally would be after that, I don’t think, and I’m not nearly as hot as last time. I also don’t feel like I’m about to immediately pass out. Wait, how long were we...since everything started?”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Draco casts a <i>Tempus</i>. “Hmm...three hours, give or take.”
  
</p><p>
  Harry gapes. “Three—are you <i>serious</i>? That didn’t feel like anything <i>near</i> three hours. Are you sure?”
  
</p><p>
  “Unless my <i>Tempus</i> no longer works, yes, I’m as sure as I’m able to be.”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Bloody hell.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Mmm.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry refills their waters, then scoots back so he’s resting against the headboard. Draco wiggles around until he’s got his head in Harry’s lap. “So,” he says, slightly muffled and into Harry’s stomach. “Do you think you’d want to give a few of my other attempts a try? We’ve got two weeks, after all…”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Harry laughs. “You’re going to kill me, you know. Has that been the plan all along? <i>Yes,</i> of course I’ll try what else you’ve come up with. I’d gladly use this one again, maybe after a bit of a break, but have you made some with different effects?”
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco sits up next to him and starts to tick off on his fingers. “One should do colours again, but what you leave on the other person changes based on your mood. One should do the light you saw. One should do the light I saw. There are a few others I need to tinker with yet, but I’m hoping to do something with taste, and maybe with sound…”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  Harry groans and knocks Draco’s shoulder with his own. “You <i>are</i> trying to kill me, you bloody maniac. I hope you’ve planned to feed me up between these marathon sex sessions, or you’ll send me back to the Aurors a shrivelled husk.”
  
</p><p>
  Draco eyes him up and down, leering. “Well we can’t have <i>that</i>. I’ll let you take me out to dinner tonight, and you can decide what order we try everything in.”
  
</p><p>
  “Oh sure, you’ll <i>let</i> me? What a bloody <i>honour,</i> Mr Malfoy.”
  
</p><p>
  “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, <i>Mr</i> Potter,” Draco purrs, and Harry winces as his cock twitches.
  
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Fuck. Truly, I might die.”<br/>
</i>
  </i>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <i>
    <i><br/>
When he returns to work, Ron takes one look at Harry’s face, throws a quill at him, and douses him in a Silencing spell so strong Hermione has to come in at lunch to undo it.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Harry doesn’t care. He whistles as he heads down to Draco’s lab.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He finished his sandwich in his office this time, though.</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>inspired by <a href="http://pornceptual.com/dripping-gold/">this photoset</a>. this was going to be a quick little PWP; i think i succeeded.</p><p>thanks as always to the collective, without whom i'd be lost in a world of owl spines and no sandwich discourse; and to jen for her beta work coming in clutch.</p><p> </p><p>my tumblr is <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bonesliketambourines">here</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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